Home Away from Home
by Frannie1
Summary: When young Faramir Took hears of his future marriage arrangement, he flees to Gondor where he confronts the Steward.
1. In Which Faramir Hears Unpleasant News

Author's Note: The characters in this story come from the mind of JRR Tolkien. None of them are mine and I do not claim to own them. 

Faramir Took lay quietly on the grassy green hill, enjoying the sun warming his face. The light breeze blew the sweet smell of honeysuckle toward him. It was midday, a little past, probably. Faramir's mother was most likely putting lunch on the table and boiling the water for the tea. He knew he should be getting back home, but he was just so comfortable. For some reason he felt safer among the flowers and birds, more at home than he felt cooped up in his burrow in his father's musty study. He loved hearing his father's stories of Fangorn Forest and Gondor, and other fantastical lands of which Faramir could hardly imagine. But lately, the Thain had been dictating letters and notes, while Faramir (who possessed the best penmanship of the two) madly scribbled the words onto the parchment. He found that his father was becoming more and more like a stiff old Took and less fun to be with. 

Faramir pushed himself up and dusted off his filthy trousers. He had left his coat at home, he reminded himself in a moment of slight panic, so as not to dirty it. He took his time--almost an hour--walking back to the Great Smials, not fully aware of what punishment was to come. When he entered the dining hall, he found his parents had indeed sat down to luncheon. However, so had many other hobbits. In fact, Faramir would not have been surprised if the entire Took family was there. 

His mother spotted him at once and beckoned to him. "Faramir, your head looks like a bird's nest!" Diamond scolded, pulling a variety of leaves, twigs, and seeds out of his strawberry-blond hair. "And where is your nice jacket? The one I just mended for you--I thought we agreed you were to wear it for today." 

"I forgot, Mother," Faramir said. "What's happened?" He stared at the slightly grave faces of the other hobbits. "Has somebody died?" 

"No," Diamond said, shaking her head. She knocked her husband with her fist. 

"What?" he asked, looking up at her. "Now?" 

"Pippin," she said forcefully. 

"All right." The Thain stood up and repeatedly hit his empty mug to the point where Diamond thought her husband had surely made a dent. "If I could have your attention, please...my fellow Tooks." He waited for the various conversations to dissipate, and then continued, "I have called you all here today to announce a very special occasion in my son's future." Faramir narrowed his eyes, pondering on what his father could possibly be referring to. "As you all know, it is a long-standing tradition in our family to choose a bride for our sons. Faramir," Pippin put a hand on his son's shoulder and went on, "is our first and only son. We have talked to many of you, seeking advice about his future marriage and have finally come to a conclusion." 

Faramir looked around the hall wildly. There were so many hobbit lasses to choose from--which would it be? Was this his punishment? Marriage? Suddenly he caught the eye of one of the girls: Violet Took, the daughter of an especially wealthy Took. Faramir had always been slightly frightened of her--she was just a bit too odd for him. And then she winked, and at that moment his father said, "I am happy to announce the engagement of Faramir and Violet Took." 


	2. In Which an Apology is Made

"Is this my _punishment_?" Faramir demanded when they entered their burrow. "I'm sorry I was late for lunch, but I caught got up--I lost track of the time." 

"I knew he'd be upset," Pippin muttered. "But you wouldn't listen to me." 

"Quiet!" Diamond snapped. Faramir rolled his eyes. "You should be happy to be promised to such a lovely young hobbit. Besides, you won't have to worry about it until you've come of age." 

"I don't want to marry at all!" Faramir protested childishly. "_Your_ marriage wasn't arranged." 

"That was a different situation entirely," Diamond replied shortly. 

"How?" Faramir shot back. 

"For one," Diamond said, her cheeks beginning to flush, "everybody thought your father was _dead_--" 

"Some tradition," Faramir interrupted sarcastically. He stalked out of the room. 

"Faramir. Faramir!" Diamond called after him. "You come back here right now!" She heard a door slam. "Fine! Then you can just stay in your room for the rest of the day!" She glared at Pippin, who was sitting in an armchair nearby and fingering his scarf. "Some help _you_ were." 

"Eh?" Pippin looked at her, but she refused to reply. "Diamond, he'll understand someday." He stood up and put an arm around her waist comfortingly. "If my parents had told me my future when I was sixteen, I would have been angry as well. And don't even say you wouldn't have been. Don't worry about it." He kissed her cheek softly. "Well, it's a good thing we told him early on. It might take him seventeen years to come to grips with it." 

Diamond sighed and peered down the hallway towards her son's bedroom. "Maybe I should go and talk to him," she said quietly. "I feel awful now, having sprung this on him so suddenly." 

"No, no, no," Pippin said quickly. "I will." He slowly padded down the hall and knocked on the closed door. "May I come in?" 

"What's the password?" came Faramir's sullen voice. 

Pippin smiled. "_Mellon_." He waited a moment, and then pushed the door open. "We know this is sudden, but we wanted to be open with you from the beginning." 

"And you had to be open with the rest of Tuckborough also?" Faramir glared at the floorboards. He didn't want to even look at his father. 

Pippin sat down on the edge of the bed. "If my parents had done that to me," he began, lowering his voice, "I'd have run somewhere where no one could ever find me. Foolishly, possibly." Faramir looked up at him. "But we are sorry that our decision has upset you." 

"Father, tell me about Minas Tirith again," Faramir said abruptly. 

Pippin was confused for a moment at this sudden change of subject, but replied, "Minas Tirith is the largest city I have ever seen and ever will see. The white tower glints like a jewel in the sunlight. You wouldn't believe how beautiful it is, Faramir." 

"Will you take me there?" Faramir asked, his green eyes wide. 

"Ah." Pippin hesitated. Even at twenty-eight he had been too young to embark on such a journey. Faramir was only sixteen. "Ask me again when you're older." 

"Why? So you can say 'no' with absolute certainty? How am I supposed to believe it if I never get to see it?" Faramir turned around angrily, now facing the window. "Are you done now?" 

Exhaling heavily and trying not to let his anger get the better of him, Pippin stood up and left the room. Almost unintentionally, he slammed the door, causing Faramir to flinch and turn around. Furiously, he grabbed the nearest object--in this case, a book--and threw it out the open window. In a few minutes, however, he realized what he had done and reached down to retrieve it. When he caught sight of it, he found the book was open to a map--one his father had drawn. It outlined his path from the Shire to Minas Tirith and back. He stared at the sky; the sun was just beginning its descent. With a quick glance back at his bedroom door, he climbed out of the window.   
  
  


There was a soft knock at the door and the Thain turned around. "Good morning," Diamond said. "Working already?" 

Pippin nodded. He scribbled something and asked, "Is Faramir awake?" 

"No, he's still sleeping," she replied. "Hasn't made a peep since yesterday afternoon." 

"Send him in, would you?" He put the quill into the inkbottle and contemplated what he would write next. He had been putting off writing this letter for weeks and had finally told himself this morning that it had to be sent out or Strider--Aragorn--_King Elessar_ would think he had either not received the letter or that he had entirely forgotten about it. He wasn't very happy with what he had written so far, but Faramir would surely give him an idea or two. _Lord Aragorn, I was very pleased to receive your inquiry, but I regret to report that I will be unable to attend. Having become Thain, I unfortunately have little time to do much of anything, let alone travel to your fine but rather distant land. If it would please you, I will send someone in my stead._ He sighed, reading it over again. 

At that moment, Diamond burst into the room, her face as pale as a specter. "What is it?" he asked. 

"Faramir's gone!" she cried, tearing already in her eyes. "I can't find him anywhere--not in his room or anywhere else in the burrow! I looked outside and I called and called, but he didn't answer!" 

She leapt into his arms and he did what he could to comfort her. "I'm sure he's just out playing with his friends," he said over her wailing. 

"He doesn't having any friends!" she sobbed. 

"All right," Pippin said, thinking quickly. "Then he's off on his own. Round the hills. He does that a lot..." He gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze and hurried out of the room and into his son's. He looked around, searching for anything that was missing, anything out of the ordinary. "The book," he muttered. "My book is missing." He stopped. 

"Pippin," Diamond said worriedly. "What does that mean? Pippin?" she repeated. 

"Oh no," he breathed. He walked to the window and rested his hands on the frame. "I was speaking to Faramir yesterday, about Minas Tirith...He begged me to let him go. I told him 'no.' Oh no." Pippin turned to look at her. "He could be halfway across the Shire by now."   
  
  


Pippin fastened his cloak about his shoulders with the Elven brooch he had received in Lothlórien. Diamond handed him his pack and helped to put it onto his back. "Please, I must go with you." Pippin said nothing but shook his head. "I can't just stay here and wait to hear from you!" 

"It's too dangerous," he said. 

Diamond stamped her foot. "He's my son too!" He merely looked at her sadly and walked past. "Pippin. Peregrin Took, don't you walk out that door!" She ran after him. 

"Diamond," he said slowly, "I'm going alone. If you need someone to talk to, my sisters are just a few steps away." He gave his sword a pat. "I'll be perfectly fine." 

"You know as well as _I_ do that that sword isn't even sharp." Pippin gave her a weak smile and had just turned the doorknob when she threw her arms around him. After a rather long moment, she kissed him and sent him on his way. Sighing, she closed the door and furiously dried her eyes with a handkerchief. What would she do without him? What would she do without them both? When Pippin had gone away before she had always had Faramir for company. Now she had no one. Pippin's sisters were all well and good but they had never shown much interest in anything save themselves and their husbands. She sighed heavily again and left the room. 


	3. In Which the Hobbits Make an Encounter

Pippin stopped and leaned against a tree. True, he wasn't as young as he had been when he'd made his last long journey--he was fifty-five now. Even his pony was exhausted. He rubbed his sore foot and sighed. He had been walking for two days and he had seen nothing of his son, not even a footprint. And now Pippin was beginning to think that Faramir hadn't come this way at all. Maybe he was never planning to go to Gondor. 

"Well, Daisy," he said, patting the pony, "ready to set out again?" 

"I'd hate to think my best friend would run away to some distant land without even telling me." Pippin turned around to face Merry Brandybuck, atop a pony himself. "Well? Where are you off to?" 

Pippin pulled himself up onto the pony. "Faramir has run away to Gondor." Merry's eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up. "We told him who he was marrying and he...well, he overreacted." 

"And you left Diamond at home?" Merry supposed. "Bet she was happy about that." Pippin merely frowned. "So...you're going by yourself, then?" 

Pippin eyed him suspiciously. "Why do you ask?" He smirked. "You didn't want to come, did you?" Merry said nothing, but looked on with a slightly bemused expression on his face. "Because I could certainly use the company and the help." 

"Well, when you put it that way," Merry ceded. "Of course I'll come with you!" 

"What about Estella?" Pippin asked a few minutes later. Merry didn't reply and Pippin cast his eyes down toward the sheathed sword hanging from his friend's saddlebag. "You knew all along," he accused. Merry nodded and Pippin became slightly flustered. "Why did you pretend not to know?" 

"Because," Merry answered shortly. "I spoke to Diamond and she was very upset about the whole matter." 

"I suppose she asked you to go along?" Pippin said. 

"She might have," Merry replied. 

"Did she request that you look after me as well?" he asked rather scathingly. 

Merry grimaced. "Well, those weren't the _exact_ words she used." Pippin grunted in an annoyed manner and Merry gave his pony a kick to catch up. "What does that matter, anyway, Pippin? We're best friends, we have to look after each other. We always have." 

"You're right," Pippin said finally. "I'm sorry....It's this whole mess. I feel like I've become a different person entirely." He bit his lip to control the tears that were welling up in his eyes. "My son is gone, Merry, and I can't find him. Who knows where he is? If he's lost, if he's hungry, if he's cold and wet somewhere...if he's frightened..." He sniffled and without turned around, he said, "I have to find him. I have to know that he's all right." 

He took a deep breath and surrendered himself to the overwhelming sadness. In a moment, Merry's hand was on his shoulder. "We will find him, Pippin. Don't you fret." 

Faramir shivered and pulled the blanket that continued to blow away in the fierce wind around him. He was cold and now wet from the rainstorm that had swept over the Old Forest. He had gone through that horrid place as quickly as he could, without stopping once for even a short rest. He had heard the tales from his Uncle Meriadoc about the creatures dwelling in the forest and did not want to run into one of them. Naturally, he was exhausted now. He was able to get a few hours of sleep before the storm blew over and the blazing sun came out. He lay there for a while, imagining he was back home. His mother was putting something hot and delicious onto the table....His stomach growled. Slowly, he opened his eyes. When they had adjusted to the light, he was able to look through his bag for something to eat. He only had a few things left--just what he had been able to grab at the extravagant luncheon. Faramir would have to start looking for food. 

When he had finished eating, he began to once again trudge in an easterly direction. He was beginning to wish he had never left at all--marrying Violet wouldn't have been _that_ bad, after all, and he wouldn't even have to marry her until he was thirty-three. "I should have listened to them," he said to himself. "Mother and Father were right." 

Merry fought to stay awake. He hadn't slept for so many days; Pippin had insisted that they keep going. "We might be able to catch up with him," he had said. And that was true, Merry supposed. "We should have caught up with him already," Pippin said wearily. "We're on ponies and he's only on foot. Something is wrong." He gasped. "What if he was kidnapped--there are those roaming bands of orcs still around. What will I tell Diamond?" 

"Pippin," Merry snapped. "He hasn't been kidnapped. You're overreacting." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just so…" He stopped to yawn. "…tired…" 

"We'd better keep moving," Pippin said. "Faster now, or we'll never catch up." They rode until nightfall and finally made camp. Pippin stared into the river, his eyes glazed over. He could feel himself deteriorating--he was just too old for this now. He watched the water rippling and the reflection of the trees above. Strangely, a large black shape passed across the water. He perked up and leapt off of his pony. Pippin approached the water's edge and, waiting for the opportune moment, removed the object from the river. He unrolled the bundle and muttered, "This is Faramir's blanket. Merry! This is Faramir's blanket!" 

Merry turned his pony. "He's following the river, then. Hurry!" Without waiting for Pippin to mount his pony, his shot off at a gallop. "We might be able to catch up if we hurry!" 

Pippin, filled with determination, threw the blanket over Daisy's back and hopped on. Rapidly, he caught up to Merry and even surpassed him eventually. They rode until nightfall, when Merry finally insisted that he needed rest or he could not go on. 

"I'm sorry," Pippin said in response. "After finding that blanket, I--I know that we're going the right way." He let out a sigh of relief, not even noticing his friend's silence. "Well. That's certainly a relief. I mean to say...well, I didn't want to sleep because I didn't think I would have been able to. I know Faramir is alive--I can feel it. Anyway, I think I'll sleep quite soundly now." He glanced over at the other hobbit. "Merry." There was a small groaning sound from the recumbent form that indicated to Pippin that he was asleep. 

Although he wasn't in the least bit tired, Pippin lay down and closed his eyes. Unfortunately, the silence of the night was the perfect breeding ground for the more dreadful thoughts in Pippin's mind. Why had Faramir's blanket been in the river? What if something had happened--a struggle that resulted in Faramir drowning--no...No, that could not have happened. Before he could convince himself of that, however, Pippin fell asleep. 

He awoke the next morning with a start. He had had a terrible nightmare in which Faramir had been carried away by a band of slobbering, growling orcs. He shuddered and washed away the thought with a handful of water from the cool river. He woke Merry up and they started off again. It was becoming colder and the wind was harsher on the hobbits' faces. Pippin's mind was already haunted with thoughts of his son and he was even more terrified at the great black spire rising up above the trees. It was Orthanc, the former lair of Saruman, and neither hobbit was looking forward to traveling through the surrounding forest to avoid it. 

"We've been attacked by trees before," said Merry, ducking his head to avoid a rather thorny branch, "and it could happen again. We could go past the tower--spend the night and continue the next day." 

"The quicker we get to Minas Tirith..." Pippin began. They were silent almost for the duration of the afternoon, when they reached the blackened grounds of the tower of Orthanc. Pippin couldn't help but wonder if the trees were giving it a wide berth on purpose. 

It was getting dark. The hobbits tied up their ponies loosely and wandered into the tower. It would be the first time in several days that they would sleep indoors. A chill ran up Pippin's spine when his feet touched the cold stone floor. He had been inside Orthanc once before and it had not been the most pleasant experience of his life. "Maybe we would be safer outside," he said hopefully. 

"Don't be ridiculous," Merry scoffed. "We're as safe in here as we'd be in our own homes." 

There was a loud creaking noise and they both jumped. Pippin found himself clinging to Merry's arm and refused to let go. "What was that?" 

"I don't know," Merry murmured. He clasped Pippin's hand briefly, then said, "Come on." As they crossed the room, they saw many doors leading to various lighted corridors. Torches clung to the walls, giving off harsh, cold light. A shadow flitted across the hall and Merry started. He thought it odd in the first place that torches were even lit. Perhaps Saruman had placed a spell on them. But that didn't explain the shadow...or the tinny dragging sound echoing in the circular chamber. "Pippin," he hissed, as his friend's hands gripped his arm. 

"I think we should leave," Pippin whispered. "Or at least..." 

"Come on," Merry interrupted and pulled him behind a tall dark shelf. Papers and strange bottles were protruding from the shelves and drawers, but it was large enough to hide behind. The scraping sound continued and Pippin held his breath, watching the shadow connect with its owner. He pushed himself closer and closer to the wall without fully being aware of it. Pippin's eyes widened and he suddenly went cold. The figure was just coming around the bend. 

It was not an orc, but a tall, greasy-looking man. His long brown hair hung low on his back and appeared to have gone a long while without being cut (or combed, for that matter). His face looked rough and unclean, with unkempt stubble creeping along his jaw line. He waved his torch about furiously and searched the room with piercing black eyes. "Filthy orcs," he cried. "Always muckin' about where they don't belong. Hear that, orcs? Morgul scum! You're not wanted here!" 

Pippin couldn't take his eyes away from the man. He seemed not to like orcs. Perhaps he could be of some use. "We're not orcs, sir!" he called. 

Merry took in a sharp breath and tried to grab Pippin before the hobbit stepped out into the open chamber. 

Pippin watched the man as he approached, unaware of how menacing his intentions were. "We seem to have lost our way, good sir, and were wondering if we might spend the night in this marvelous dwelling of yours?" 

In a matter of seconds, the man had scooped Pippin up by his neck and pinned him to the wall. "Trespassing, eh? I oughtta stick you right now." 

Merry jumped out of his hiding place, sword ready. "Put him down!" he cried." 

"Or what?" the man asked angrily. Pippin frantically pulled at the man's filthy hands, fighting for air. 

Merry didn't bother with a reply, but slashed at the man's arm. He promptly dropped Pippin and cradled his bleeding appendage. Pippin rubbed his aching neck, taking in deep, rasping breaths. 

"Fair enough," said the man. "Now you have me, two against one, and I without a weapon." He turned around and grabbed a stray cloth from one of the cluttered tables. He then wrapped it tightly around the wound to lessen the amount of bleeding. "So where would two halflings be going by foot and all by themselves?" 

Merry sheathed his sword, albeit reluctantly. "With all respect, sir, you are mistaken. We have ridden our ponies from the Shire. Two brown mares they are, tied up outside." 

"Well," the man began, with a hint of a smile, "they're gone now." At the hobbits' questioning looks, he continued, "I saw two ponies galloping into the forest not two minutes ago. Must've been spooked. Isengard will do that to the weak at heart." 

Pippin coughed and rasped, "How will we get to Minas Tirith now?" Merry shot him an angry look. 

"Minas Tirith?" the man asked. "What business do you have there?" 

Pippin opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it upon meeting Merry's eyes. "I think we've told this stranger enough, Pippin. He hasn't even told us his name." 

"Bereth," he replied coldly. "Now why would you be going to Minas Tirith?" He paced in front of the two hobbits, eyeing them suspiciously. "Perhaps for a bit of mischief...?" He stopped pacing and uttered, "Eh?" 

"We're visiting an old friend," Pippin replied. He stared at Bereth's unmoving eyes as they were focused on his own. 

Their eyes remained locked until Bereth looked away, saying, "I can take you as far as Ithilien. From there you can find your own way." 

"But we have no need to go to Ithilien," Pippin protested. 

"In Ithilien you will have a warm bed and a hot meal. Besides," he said, "I have a brother there. Perhaps you'd like to make his acquaintance?" 

"We'd be much obliged," Merry said. 

Pippin shot his companion a vexed look. "Ithilien is out of our way," he whispered. "We can make better time if we bear south." 

Merry ignored him and followed Bereth out of the chamber. "Merry!" Pippin protested, but Merry didn't even bother to look back. Frustrated, he made to follow, running a bit to keep up with their swift pace. 

"You may sleep here tonight," Bereth said as he handed a few blankets to the hobbits. "If you need me, I'll be in another room. Don't try to find me--it's not worth your time. Besides that, I'd rather you didn't." He added the last quite nastily. 

"We won't bother you," Merry assured him as the man left the room. He lit a few candles to bring some light to the dark chamber. Pippin gaped at Merry with unblinking eyes. "Get some sleep, Pip." 

"I can't believe that you trust him!" Pippin exclaimed. "He's dirty and filthy, and unpleasant!" 

Trying to remain calm, Merry replied stiffly, "He has provided a place to sleep and is willing to guide us safely to Ithilien." 

"We'll see how safe we are when he's throttled us during the night," Pippin retorted grumpily. 

Merry, fairly nettled now, blew out his candle and covered himself with a blanket. "I came with you because I'm your _friend_, Pippin, and I'm trying to do what I think is best to find your son. I want to help." 

Pippin doused has candle and slowly made a bed for himself. "I know, Merry." He closed his eyes, trying to squeeze the bad thoughts out with the tears that had been waiting to come out. He hoped Faramir was all right. Maybe he had also found a trustworthy guide. Pippin sighed, acquiescing that Faramir would be fine. He was, after all, a Took. 


End file.
